


What Happens In Rome

by killingg_eve



Series: A Very Merry Kinktober 2020 [3]
Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/F, Mutual Masturbation, NSFW, Phone Sex, what happened during earpiece sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:54:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26886949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killingg_eve/pseuds/killingg_eve
Summary: "'You should let yourself go, once in a while.' Villanelle takes a long breath and practically sighs while exhaling."--Y'all already know 👀 We're doing "what happened during the Rome earpiece sex." Buckle TF in.
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Series: A Very Merry Kinktober 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1959379
Comments: 25
Kudos: 108





	What Happens In Rome

“What are you doing?” Villanelle asks, after climbing into bed and pulling the covers all the way up to her chin.

Eve stops clicking her pen on the table, surprised by the sudden speaking on the other end of the line. Why is Villanelle still talking to Peele? Didn’t she already say goodnight to him, about twenty minutes ago? Or—is there someone else she ran into?

“Are you going to listen all night?” she continues.

Eve jolts in her seat, slightly, sitting up straighter. _Wait, is she talking to me?_

Eve was going to listen all night, actually. She wants Villanelle to be safe. Part of her wondered if Villanelle was going to do anything questionable . . . call Konstantin or someone else in her agency. It was mostly the former, though; she wanted to be sure Villanelle got back to her room and wouldn’t be intercepted by anyone unexpected. If Hugo wanted to give up and go to sleep, then fine, but Eve wouldn’t leave Villanelle to look after her own self.

“Are you having fun in Rome?” It’s evident, even through the earpiece, that Villanelle smiles a bit when she asks.

Eve’s eyes light up, at that, and her mouth pulls itself into a slight grin, subconsciously. She thinks about how she has been having an alright time, but how Villanelle’s eye contact from the restaurant, earlier, never left her mind.

(She’d handed off the piece of bread she shoved the microphone into. She’d wished for words or more contact. The way Villanelle took her hand while grabbing the roll, and the way she looked at her before leaving . . . it was haunting and perfect, and Eve wants _more_ of that, on this trip.)

Villanelle laughs in her ear, and Eve can’t help but notice how beautiful her voice is, how she _could_ listen all night.

“You should let yourself go, once in a while.” Villanelle takes a long breath and practically sighs while exhaling. She runs her hand over her thigh, under the covers, pressing her back into the mattress and feeling her own arousal heighten. She knows Eve can’t take the earpiece out, now, if she’s still listening.

The sigh sounds like it’s laced with a moan, and it hits Eve in the gut. _Is she going to touch herself? Is that what she means?_

“I can help you,” Villanelle says.

It seems too good to be true, but Villanelle knows how uptight Eve has been throughout the planning and execution of their mission. Eve wouldn’t mind letting the tension go.

Those are the last steady words Villanelle will speak, because immediately after that, she reaches under her clothes and taps a fingertip onto her clit, which is already slick, and she starts to make slow, wide strokes throughout her center to bring the wetness to more places and warm herself up. She hardly notices how she continues to take slow breaths in and _sigh_ out.

Eve feels the trouble of each slow inhale, and the way the sighs become more hindered means she knows exactly what Villanelle is up to.

She looks to Hugo, who is probably almost asleep, and she thinks that using him would be easier than touching herself in the bed that he’s in. So she decides on that, instantaneously, and she hurries because she doesn’t know how long she can handle hearing the sighs without experiencing something physical.

She hears the beautiful voice on the other end—becoming whimpered, really—and pulls the duvet away from Hugo, waking him immediately.

“What are you doing?” Hugo asks.

She straddles his hips and imagines that she’s anchoring herself on one of Villanelle’s thighs, that maybe Villanelle’s cheeks would be painted with blush when they made contact, and that maybe Villanelle would smile up at her and whisper “ _Eve_.” 

“Don’t talk,” she rushes out. All she wants to hear is the pretty sounds. (All she wants to hear _for the rest of her life_ is the pretty sounds.)

//

Eve takes Hugo inside, as soon as possible. She clamps a hand over his mouth when he tries to ask why she’s so wet. She could tell him she touches herself often (which is not necessarily a lie), or she could cite the tension from the mission, but it’s a whole lot easier to just cover his mouth and make a forced little whining sound to encourage him to keep going.

What she knows for sure is that Villanelle’s breaths are picking up. She wants to hear each one.

“ _E-Eve_ , I—” Villanelle stutters over her words and sighs.

Did saying Eve’s name make her stutter?

Eve groans into the space between her and Hugo.

Another couple of quick sighs follow, before she can continue. It seems like she’s preparing herself to speak. She’s more vulnerable when she does.

“I’m so _wet_ , Eve.” She says it like she’s desperate and wants company.

Eve presses both of her hands down onto Hugo’s stomach and she imagines the soft curves of Villanelle’s sides, and the fullness of her breasts, and if Villanelle’s eyes would be trained on her own while she makes all those sighing sounds.

“I masturbate about you, Eve, and I want to tell you what I think about. Okay?”

Eve almost whispers “okay” to Hugo and she almost whispers “please,” at the same time, but she wants to say neither of those things to him.

“I think about how nice your body is, Eve. I think about— _ah_ —how I could take care of it for you.”

Eve’s eyes clamp shut because she echoes Villanelle’s “ah” sound when the end of that statement hits her.

“I think that I would take your pretty sweater off, and your trousers, and I would hang them up in my armoire. And I would undress you completely and lay you down on my bed, on the nice, silk duvet I bought for us.”

Each word that falls from her mouth sounds like velvet, somehow. Her words are shaky, yet controlled.

“I would be naked, too, Eve. Don’t worry. I have a nice body. We would be good together.”

Eve wants to laugh outright at the cockiness, but she can’t because Villanelle said she would be naked, and that’s all she can think about, now.

“I would put two fingers in your mouth—my fingers, I mean. And then I would reach for your clitoris. I would make circles, just like,” (an accidental gasp), “ _this_.”

Eve can tell Villanelle is demonstrating on herself because then she lets out a moan, and it’s hot as shit.

“In my fantasy, you are already wet. Eve . . . _Are you wet?_ ”

Eve whines “ _Yeah_ ,” quietly, and drops her head because it’s not fair that she can’t give Villanelle her answer.

“I could finish you just like that, Eve, if you like it.” Villanelle’s words feel like they are slurring more with pleasure, as she continues on. “But if you wanted more, I could go inside—” she is cut off for a moment. “Mm!”

Eve knows Villanelle has a finger in herself. This is so _dirty_.

“I could still play with—” she inhales with a shaky hiss “—your . . . clit!” Her voice turns up at the end clumsily, and she is already whimpering too much.

Eve falls flat on top of Hugo, unable to stay upright, and she cries into his ear. It’s the tone in Villanelle’s voice that does it to her, not just her promises.

“I could fuck you so good, Eve. I could make it so good for you. You would . . . you . . . you would take it so well, I just _know_. I would _take you_ , Eve, and it would be the perfect amount to satisfy you. To make you c—” (she can’t say it, yet).

Villanelle doesn’t speak for a few moments, but she is still working her way up. Her breaths are quick and she must be enjoying it, even though she’s not on the edge, yet.

“There’s no way for me to know if you’re listening. But I’m going to imagine that you are. Even imagining is good enough, when it comes to you.”

Eve loses herself and stalls for a moment, being surprised when Hugo rams into her again, because she wants Villanelle to know that she’s listening. But the fact that Villanelle is turned on, regardless, is impossibly hot.

“I’m sorry, Eve, I said I would help you, and I got,” she verbally shivers, “distracted.”

Eve groans and wishes Villanelle could hear her.

(Hugo pulls out and . . . does whatever he needs to do . . . etc.. - Nobody cares what he’s doing.)

Villanelle pants into the microphone because she’s preparing for what’s next. “ _Eve_ ,” she inhales, “If you’re still listening then do exactly as I say. I’ll do the same.”

Eve flops onto her back and she’s still panting, and she’s glad that Hugo finished and she didn’t.

“Put one finger on your clit. Rub in circles, okay? But don’t come yet.”

Eve rubs at her clit and hardly feels like she can hang on, but she will. For Villanelle, she will. She can’t believe she and Villanelle are making the same circles, at the same time.

“Take your other h-hand,” Villanelle is breathy and she needs to concentrate. “Ah, fuck, Eve,” she whispers, but continues shortly after. “Put a finger inside. Or two, it doesn’t matter. And tilt your fingers up towards the ceiling. Do you f-f-feel that spot, Eve?”

“Shit,” Eve whines out really slowly because she feels it and she knows that somewhere, wherever Villanelle is, Villanelle feels it, too.

“Do both, Eve!” Villanelle cries, in a rush. “Tap against that s-spot and play w-with your pretty” (and she’s breathing) “little” (she breathes) “clit. And imagine me ins-s-side telling you how _good_ you are.”

Eve writhes beneath her hands and clamps her eyes shut while she focuses on hearing every piece of Villanelle’s voice—every hint of arousal: every whine, every gasp, and every pretty sigh.

“I wanna see your face when— _fuck_! . . . I wanna kiss your neck and hear you when you c-come.”

Villanelle must truly be imagining what Eve’s face looks like, and what she sounds like, because she starts to come undone.

“ _Come for me, Eve! Show me how pretty and good you are, how well you take my fingers, how much you like it when I’m fucking you!_ ”

Villanelle lets a succession of moans out of her throat and they eventually slow, and then she’s taking heaving breaths and they’re just as pretty and feminine as everything else.

Eve comes silently while she listens intently to Villanelle’s moans, and she thinks they would cry out together if they were in bed instead of using audio equipment, but she hears the desperate quality of Villanelle’s whiny moans and every part of them hits her nerves while she comes. Suddenly her heart is pounding in her chest because she’s finished coming, and she’s even forcing her own breathing to be quiet so that she can hear _Villanelle’s_ breaths and _Villanelle’s_ whines, as well as the eventual, peaceful whispers of _“fuck”_ and _“oh god”_ as the young woman calms down. Villanelle’s voice is all there is and all that matters, and Eve can tell that Villanelle practically exploded because Eve was listening—or just because of the _idea_ that she _could_ be listening, if nothing else.

Eve thinks that Villanelle must look so pretty and sweet because that’s what her soft little breaths sound like, now.

Villanelle’s eyes are closed and she could fall asleep at any second, once her breathing slows down, but she whispers into the microphone because it’s the last thing she’ll say, tonight.

“Do you feel better, Eve?” She smiles.


End file.
